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by Sarah Jaber

Coffee stains my porcelain cup as ink spills on to this neatly penned page. Blotted with unease, spilled with grace; what’s permanent and imperfect is not always flawed. Imperfection clings to me and yet it frees me. I feel liberated from straight lines and boundaries. I seek bold images and lasting impressions. Like the art that remains after one sip, my words scramble and rearrange into paragraphs enclosing my thoughts. The white of my paper and the white of my cup create a contrast of who I am. I am flawed; I am imperfect—take a sip of my words.